


The One Who Wouldn't

by Salvia_G



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Dwarf Courting, Fluff, Kink Meme, M/M, Marriage Contracts, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salvia_G/pseuds/Salvia_G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the following prompt from The Hobbit Kink meme on livejournal:</p><p>If Adventures make you late for supper, Soulmates make for missing supper entirely. </p><p>In Hobbit society peace and plenty is viewed as more valuable than passion and riches. Marriages are thought best when they're settled, warm affairs between friends. That's why Soulmate marks are thought of as a mark AGAINST a marriage-match...</p><p>Dwarves on the other hand, view a soulmate as a blessing from Mahal. If a dwarrow is so lucky as to be born with a mark they spend their life searching for their One. No wealth or jewel is thought of greater value than a soulmate.</p><p>So when Thorin and Bilbo meet and see each others marks?...</p><p>(the rest of the prompt is in the notes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: If Adventures make you late for supper, Soulmates make for missing supper entirely. 
> 
> In Hobbit society peace and plenty is viewed as more valuable than passion and riches. Marriages are thought best when they're settled, warm affairs between friends. That's why Soulmate marks are thought of as a mark AGAINST a marriage-match. Oh, sure, they'll always be important to each other, but a mark doesn't necessarily mean that the people involved will get along well, or that their families will. Often enough it makes for deeply involved relationships, sometimes tumultuous relationships, and can lead to family strife when excessive possessiveness gets involved. So Hobbits tend to view their marks as a warning to stay away from whoever’s name is written on their person if they should be so unlucky as to bear a mark.
> 
> Dwarves on the other hand, view a soulmate as a blessing from Mahal. If a dwarrow is so lucky as to be born with a mark they spend their life searching for their One. No wealth or jewel is thought of greater value than a soulmate.
> 
> So when Thorin and Bilbo meet and see each others marks? Bilbo does the polite thing and pretends he's never seen it, and tries his best to refuse the adventure before he breaks down and goes. Thorin, on the other hand, is torn between horrible hurt and humiliation that Bilbo didn't immediately throw himself into his arms, and worry that his soulmate should get anywhere near The Dragon. 
> 
> Bonus: Fem!Bilbo (Or not, but I love me some het-spawned dwobbits) or Troll!Gandalf who knows exactly what's going on.
> 
> HUGE BONUS: for everyone in the party having an OPINION on the Love Saga of the two, ranging from Bilbo playing hard to get, to Thorin needing to just kidnap him, to a Good Shag Will Fix It All, to parties taking sides for whatever reason!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I own nothing, not Tolkien's lovely _The Hobbit_ nor the Peter Jackson films inspired by the book; and I am grateful for the chance to play in Middle Earth's playground too.

Despite the scandal of his birth (for Bungo and Belladonna Baggins came together not out of friendship, but were each other’s _Soulmates_ ), Bilbo Baggins was entirely respectable.  He had, as young hobbits often are, been a bit wild in his tweens; but as the years passed, the Shire still looked on him with approval.  For no hobbit named _Thorin son of Thrain_ had ever been born, and none ever would.  Bilbo had almost no chance of meeting his own soulmate.

 

If as a child Bilbo had sometimes dreamed of meeting the perfect match, the other half of his whole, none ever knew of such outlandish longings on his part.  He loved his mother and father dearly and could see how they loved each other—how they _fit_ together in a way that it was hard to explain, but just was—though their union was the subject of gossip and whispers throughout the Shire.  As a child Bilbo had understood none of that, but he didn’t think to mention his dream to anyone.  He thought all hobbits felt the same about their future love.

 

It was not until his teens that he understood just exactly why hobbits would cluster and whisper when his parents walked by holding hands, or the gasps when they kissed to greet each other.  After all, other hobbits would do the same.  It took his Uncle Isengrim pulling him aside one afternoon to explain before he realized what the Shire thought of his parents, and by extension, him as their child.

 

“It’s no fault of your own,” Uncle Isengrim said.  “Your parents simply had the courage to do what the rest of the Shire fears.”

 

“Their marriage is no different than any other!” Bilbo protested.  Uncle Isengrim sighed.

 

“I wish it were true,” he replied, his hand circling his own wrist.  “But hobbits are the way they are, nephew; I don’t see it changing anytime soon.  A soulmate is to be a good friend, perhaps; but is too close to be a spouse.  It’s almost as bad as if a brother and sister wanted to marry.”

 

Bilbo looked at where Uncle Isengrim’s hand covered his own soulmark.

           

“Is that why Aunt Rosa is married to Uncle Hildigrim instead of you, though it’s her name on your wrist?” he asked.

 

Uncle Isengrim nodded.  Bilbo lowered his voice.

 

“Is that why you never married?” he persisted.  He lowered his voice even more.  “Why you don’t speak to Uncle Hildigrim?”

 

Uncle Isengrim’s nod this time was curt.

 

Bilbo chewed his lip and looked at his own wrists, where one day his soulmark would appear, if he should have one.  He didn’t speak.  He never wanted to cause pain, and Uncle Isengrim was his favorite uncle.  But Uncle Isengrim sighed, and took his hands.

 

“What your parents have, what I wanted:  it’s scary for some hobbits.  And it might be easier if there were no such thing.  But marks are marks, and when the time comes, only you can decide what you want to do if you have one.”

 

Bilbo met Uncle Isengrim’s eyes.

           

“And your mate,” he said, voice wavering.  “Your mate can choose like Aunt Rosa did.”

 

Uncle Isengrim nodded again, but did not speak.  Bilbo pretended not to notice his eyes filling with tears.

 

As he and his peers grew older, and names began to bloom across the insides of their wrists, he didn’t know whether to be happy or sad when a name appeared on his wrist; but was one that no hobbit had ever heard of.  He supposed such a person must exist somewhere in Middle Earth; but unless he left the Shire, he would likely never meet _Thorin son of Thrain_.  He might never meet him even if he did, for Middle Earth was large, and one hobbit could never traverse it all in search of the one that was his match.  He didn’t even know if his soulmate was human or elf or dwarf, only that it was no hobbit.

***

After his father died, and he saw how his mother grieved, he was happy for it.  He might have a soulmate, but if they never met he would never have to suffer the pain his mother did.  He didn’t think on his own great grief, but convinced himself that his mother would not mourn so if she had not married her other half.  It was then that he decided he would never seek out his mate, as he had sometimes dreamed of doing, despite the difficulty.

 

When his mother followed his father a few years later, Bilbo cried bitter tears and locked himself away in Bag End.  When he finally broke his self-imposed isolation, he was solemn, as befitted a hobbit in mourning, and that solemnity never quite went away.  It was that, and the fact that the name crossing his wrist belonged to no one, that created his respectable reputation.  Bilbo’s behaviour was circumspect in every way, and the Shire approved.

 

Perhaps if Gandalf had known it, he might have chosen another burglar; but probably not.  Gandalf seemed to have ideas about what would be good for Bilbo, and circumspection did not seem to be one of them.  Why else would Gandalf have marked his door?  Why else bring thirteen dwarrows to Bag End?  Bilbo was beside himself.  And then Thorin Oakenshield knocked on his door.

 

As soon as Bilbo heard his name he stuck his hands in his robe’s pockets and kept them there, but he could not stop himself from watching this dwarf—his soulmate.  He had not gone out into the world, but his soulmate had come to him!  He was discombobulated:  excited and anxious and so perturbed he felt sick.

 

When his soulmate called him a grocer, a part of him—that had perhaps been hopeful—flinched.  Another part felt anger, and a deep distrust.  Despite the happiness of his parent’s marriage, it seemed the Shire was right.  Soulmates were better apart.  Perhaps he might one day be friends with this king without a kingdom, but he thought not.  Certainly this Thorin had nothing but contempt for him.  And Thorin son of Thrain was probably another Thorin anyway; else why would this one speak so to Bilbo?  Bilbo deliberately kept Gandalf between himself and Thorin Oakenshield.  So he did not see the dwarven king pale to hear his name, or his hand go to his wrist.

 

In the morning, Bilbo blamed the impetuous Took in him for deciding that he wanted to have an adventure.  He would not think of Thorin son of Thrain, other than to ensure that his wristlet was snug.  He hadn’t worn it often, with no Thorins to speak of living in the Shire; but lately it had become fashionable to cover one’s soulmark, and one of his cousins had given them for his last birthday.  If he didn’t have to look at the name, he didn’t have to wonder.

 

Their first night, Thorin approached him as the rest of the dwarves prepared their camp.

           

“Thorin Oakenshield, at your service,” he said as he bowed, and looked expectantly at Bilbo.

 

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo replied.  When he came out of his own bow, he pursed his lips to see Thorin’s brilliant smile.  But as Thorin stepped forward and reached for his hands, Bilbo stepped back.

 

“Despite what Gandalf said, I am not a burglar,” he said, “but I will try to help you take back your home if I can.  In the meanwhile perhaps I can help Bombur with the stew.  I like to think I am no mean cook.”  And Bilbo hurried away, leaving his soulmate standing confounded behind him.  For Bilbo was almost sure now; Thorin’s reaction had confirmed it.  It was likely that Thorin Oakenshield was also Thorin son of Thrain.

 

Bilbo was not sure if he was enjoying his adventure or not.  The rain, he certainly did not enjoy; but the stories around the campfire, he did.  His heart went all unwilling out to Thorin to hear of his brave desperation at Moria; but he spoke only to ask Balin of the fate of the White Orc, and he watched Thorin only when his back was turned.

 

Over the next days, Bilbo tried not to notice that Thorin was also watching him, but he did.  He could not read the expression on his face; it seemed Thorin could be stoic if he wanted.  He did not approach Bilbo until after the incident of the trolls.  Bilbo thought that seemed about right for this adventure.  He might not want to marry his soulmate, but that did not mean that he wanted his soulmate to see him covered in troll bogeys.

 

“You may not be much use in a fight, but you think quickly,” Thorin told him. 

 

Bilbo’s lip quirked into half a smile.

 

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” he said, before remembering himself.  He scurried away before Thorin could say anything else, or, Valar forbid, smile at him.  He wasn’t sure how many of Thorin’s smiles he could resist.

***

 

He didn’t have to worry about Thorin smiling at him in Rivendell, at the Last Homely House.  Thorin did nothing but scowl while they were among the elves, and particularly to see Bilbo looking around himself with awe.  When he was younger, he had harboured a secret hope that Thorin son of Thrain was an elf; and though he had long given up dreams of bonding with his soulmate, he still admired the elves. 

 

At dinner that evening, while the elves were gracious and the dwarrows were...not, Kili noticed his wristlet.

           

“What’s that?” he asked. 

 

After a moment, Bilbo answered.

 

“Simply a wristlet,” he said.  “Rather fashionable among hobbits lately.”

 

Kili frowned.

 

“But what if you have a soul mark?” he asked, then answered his own question.  “I suppose you wear it on the other wrist, then.”

 

Bilbo wished he didn’t feel like it would be lying to simply remain silent.

           

“Ah, no,” he replied.  “They are for covering marks.”

 

The entire table fell silent, all of their attention on Bilbo.  He felt rather like running away.  Kili smiled brightly at him.

           

“That’s so wonderful for you,” he said.  “And the wristlets so fascinating!  Do you only show your mate the mark, and that’s why it’s covered?”  He paused.  “That’s rather romantic.”

 

Kili turned his wrists over to show Bilbo that they were bare.

 

“Most dwarrows don’t have them,” he said, “but Uncle does.  They’re considered very good luck among us, though of course having one does not guarantee you will meet your mate.  I don’t think he ever has.”

 

Bilbo said nothing.  At the far end of the table, Thorin said nothing either.

 

“I have one,” Gloin said.  “I was never so happy as the day I met my Edda.”

 

Balin cut off Gloin before he could wax rhapsodic about Edda and Gimli once more.

 

“You are blessed indeed,” he said hastily, “as are Master Baggins and Thorin, though he has never met his mate.”  He turned to Bilbo.  “Have you been lucky in finding your mate, Master Baggins?”

 

Bilbo sighed and looked down at the table.

 

“Hobbits view the marks differently than dwarrows,” was all he said.  “We don’t really talk about them.”  _That’s a whopper, Bilbo_ , he thought, remembering how the Shire had gossiped about his parents; but he didn’t think he could speak further on this without revealing his soulmate’s name.

 

Thorin spoke then.

 

“But you have met your mate, have you not, Master Baggins?” he asked tightly.

 

Bilbo looked away, and Gandalf chose that moment to intervene.

 

“I think perhaps we might show your map to Elrond now,” he said to Thorin.  “Shall we?”

 

Thorin nodded curtly.

 

“Balin, I should value your wisdom,” he said, “if you will come.”  Balin nodded and rose from the table.  Thorin turned to Bilbo.  “Master Baggins, will you join us as well?”

 

Bilbo pursed his lips, but he nodded.  He was really quite curious about what the map might reveal.

 

As they fled Rivendell, leaving Gandalf to deal with the White Council, Thorin found a moment to speak to Bilbo quietly.

           

“I admit I did not expect a hobbit, though I have long been searching for my One,” he said stiffly.  “I did expect a happier meeting.”

 

Bilbo bit his lip.

           

“I’m sure there might be another Bilbo Baggins in the world,” he replied.

 

Thorin only looked at him.

 

“And what lies under your _wristlet_ , Bilbo Baggins?”  he asked.  When Bilbo did not reply, Thorin angrily pushed past the other dwarrows to join Dwalin at the front of the line.

 

Not a minute later, Bilbo realized Fili and Kili, who were behind him in their little column, were also staring at him, or at Thorin, and whispering furiously.  _Oh bother_ , Bilbo thought.

 

***

 

Though he had not bonded with Thorin, Bilbo still felt hollow to hear Thorin say that he should never have left his home, that he was not one of the company.  That night he gathered his things to leave.  He had had enough adventure, and now he only tortured Thorin and himself.  It was not fair of him to stay by Thorin’s side now that he understood how dwarrows viewed their soulmates.  Thorin wanted something he could not give.

 

But as the dwarrows fell into Goblintown, some long-repressed part of Bilbo was glad he fell with them.  He would not have wanted to return to safety in Rivendell while Thorin fell to his death.  He did not want Thorin to go on without him.  Bilbo sighed.  It was too late for him already.  If he went back to the Shire now, he would still worry over Thorin and the dangers he faced on this quest.  He must only hold to the Shire’s teachings, and choose not to bond.  Perhaps he and Thorin might yet be friends.  Should they survive the next hours.

 

Yet when he fell into the darkness, away from the dwarrows, away from Thorin, he did not think of Thorin as a friend, but rather of his brilliant smile.  Only when he realized something stalked him in the dark did fear wipe the memory of that smile from his mind.

 

As he watched Thorin face Azog and fall before him, Bilbo felt that fear again, and it was far worse than when he had been the one who was in danger.  He hardly knew what he did until he stood in front of Azog as well, his long knife held at the ready.  He felt fear, yes; but also something else he could not name deep within him.  If he died here, he died protecting his soulmate, protecting Thorin.

 

And as he was held in Thorin’s arms on the Carrock, that part of him sang, and Bilbo remembered he had more to fear from Thorin than from Gollum or Azog.  They could only kill his body, but Thorin could wound his soul to the quick.  Indeed, as Thorin looked down on him, and smiled, Bilbo knew the only thing between him and the pain his mother had felt on his father’s death was whatever distance he could keep between himself and Thorin.  They might be soulmates, but they could not bond if they stayed away from each other.

 

And then Thorin touched his cheek.

           

“My Bilbo,” he murmured.

 

Bilbo was not sure what to do.  Clearly Thorin did not have to smile to wreck him.  He thought he might be wrecked already, bond or no.

***

 

It was at Beorn’s house that Kili confirmed what Bilbo thought he and Fili had suspected since the company left Rivendell.

 

“But you are Uncle’s mate!” he declared upon seeing Bilbo’s bare wrist as they bathed in the quietly flowing river that wound through Beorn’s land.  “Thorin, son of Thrain—and you have known from the beginning!”

 

The company stared, and then Fili whooped, and the rest of the dwarrows began to cheer.

 

“Uncle!” Fili cried.  “Bilbo!  ‘Tis such a glorious day, and glorious news!  But why keep it a secret, when you have found your One?”

 

Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes.  He stood, majestic even stripped of all his raiment, his blue eyes steady on Bilbo.

 

“It’s not done, in the Shire,” Bilbo told him, though the whole company heard.  “We...Hobbits don’t bond.”  The company’s cheery faces died away.

 

“Don’t bond?!” Fili exclaimed, aghast.  “But...”  He looked at Bilbo, and then at Thorin, and back to Bilbo.  “Mahal...” his voice trailed away.

 

Kili was not so quiet.

           

“How can you do that to Uncle?”  He was almost shouting.  “You are his One!  Do you think it does not make it so because you want it to?  You cannot will it away, and you should not want to!  It is a gift from Mahal!”

 

Bilbo shook his head.

           

“It isn’t done in the Shire,” he whispered, and then he fled, to the sounds of the company’s exclamations behind him.  He cried when he reached Beorn’s house.  He thought if he could have bonded with Thorin—if he had not known about the coming pain—but he did know, and he feared a future of mourning the other half of his soul.  He would not do that to Thorin, and he could not do it to himself.  Kili was wrong about it; it was not a gift.

 

As the company trailed back from the river, they quietly gave Bilbo a wide berth, all but Bofur.  He came to sit at the fire beside Bilbo, though at first he said nothing.  When most of the rest of the company had gone to sit at table, then he spoke.

           

“I knew a miner once,” he said.  “He lost his One early, in childbirth.”

 

Bilbo looked at the fire instead of Bofur.

           

“He was never the same,” Bofur added quietly.  “I don’t know why hobbits don’t bond; but when I look at you, I don’t see someone following his people’s traditions.  I see someone who knows pain is coming.”

 

Bilbo cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice was still hoarse.

           

“It’s not good manners, bonding,” he said.  “It’s...It’s thought better to be friends, and have a comfortable marriage.  Soulmates are—they can forget other people, their families, and what’s important there.  Better to be friends with a spouse.”

 

“But that’s not why you won’t bond,” Bofur said.

 

“No,” Bilbo agreed.  “That’s not why I won’t bond.”  He took a deep breath.  “Let’s go in to dinner before the others eat it all.”

 

“All right,” Bofur said.  “Just...I think you should do what seems right to you.”

 

Bilbo smiled at him.

           

“Thank you, Bofur,” he said.  “You are a good friend.”

 

Thorin scowled to see Bilbo and Bofur walk in to dinner together, but he didn’t say anything, only somehow transmitted majestic fury as he ate.  It was not until after dinner that trouble began again, when Kili cornered Bilbo.

 

“Nothing is worth as much as a soulmate,” he stated without preliminaries.  “No gold, no gems—nothing is as great a blessing.”  He showed Bilbo his bare wrists.  “I would do anything to have the gift you have been given, and you would throw it away!”

 

“Leave it,” Dwalin rumbled threateningly.

 

“I won’t!” Kili declared.  “It’s wrong, and he’s hurting Uncle, and I won’t leave him be until he changes his mind!”

 

Dwalin snorted. 

 

“If he changes his mind, it’s not going to be because of your bleating at him,” he said.

 

Kili looked hurt for a moment, but then he rallied.

           

“But Uncle could change his mind,” he said.  He looked to Thorin.  “Uncle, you must court him!”

 

The company broke into animated discussion at this.

 

“I rather think it’s private,” Bilbo tried.  “I’m sorry; perhaps we could discuss something else?”  But no one paid him any mind.

 

Balin tilted his head and nodded wisely.

           

“It’s been done that way before,” he said.  “Like negotiations between two parties.”

 

“It’s not a contract,” Nori countered.

 

“Actually, at times in the past it has been considered a contract,” Ori contradicted.

 

“Bilbo should be allowed to decide for himself,” Bofur stated.  Bifur added something in Khuzdûl, and Bofur nodded agreement.

 

The whole company burst into discussion.

 

“I think—“ Bilbo said.

 

“I’d rather—“ he tried.

 

“Perhaps—“ he began.

 

But he was ignored as the company only talked or yelled or even threatened one another, as Nori shook his fist at Balin, and Dwalin held Kili back from attacking Bofur.

 

Bilbo hid his face in his hands.  How had his life become this?  He had only wanted to go on an adventure, and now—this.

 

“Enough!” he heard Thorin roar.  “Enough!”  The company quieted.  “When it is someone’s name on your wrist, then you may do as you like; but you will leave Mister Baggins and me be!”  Kili looked rebellious, but did not say anything.  Thorin stood, and crossed to Bilbo.

 

“Though I think perhaps my sister-son is right,” he said.  He took Bilbo’s hand in his, and undid Bilbo’s wristlet and let it fall to the ground.  He turned Bilbo’s wrist, and smiled to see his name written there in black, and lifted it to his mouth and kissed it; and all the while his eyes were on Bilbo’s.

 

“On the morrow, I begin to court you, Bilbo Baggins,” he stated.

 

Bilbo quivered.  _Oh dear_ , he thought.  _Oh dear_.

 

The company burst into discussion again, and Bilbo fled to his bed.  He was determined that he would not dream of blue eyes and a brilliant smile that night.  He did anyway.

***

 

Bilbo woke in the morning to find a sprig of box and one of arbutus tied into a posy with oxeye daisies by his pillow: constancy, and a declaration of love for One only, and patience.  He blushed, and hurried from his bed; but he could not make himself leave them, and he tucked one of the daisies in his buttonhole.  Thorin sat at table already, and smiled to see him.  Bilbo went to him.

 

“Thank you,” he said.  “These are lovely.”

 

Thorin shook his head.

           

“I would give you emeralds and sapphires and opals set together,” he said, “but I admit I did not think to meet you on this quest.  I brought nothing, and I will have nothing until Erebor to give you.  This is merely a poor substitute.”

 

“They are as lovely as any gem could be,” Bilbo disagreed.  “I should not know what to do with emeralds and sapphires and opals.”

 

“Do you not?” Thorin leaned in close that he might murmur to him.  “I would braid them into your hair, and weave them into a mithril crown, and set them into a cuff for you to cover your wrist if you must.”  He took Bilbo’s free hand in his.  “I would add rubies as soon as I dared.”

 

“Rubies?” Bilbo’s voice wavered.

 

Thorin lifted Bilbo’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his palm.

 

“For passion,” he said.  “Emeralds for love, and sapphires for longing and loyalty, and opals for hope.”

 

“Oh dear,” Bilbo whispered.  He extricated his hand from Thorin’s and backed away.  Thorin’s smile grew smug.  Bilbo hurried away, and ate breakfast at the far end of the table, but he was aware all the time of Thorin’s eyes upon him.

 

He was also aware of the eyes of the company on his small bouquet:  of Kili’s nod of approval, of Fili’s air of waiting, of Bofur’s resignation.  After breakfast he and Nori drew Bilbo aside.

 

“Don’t let him pressure you,” Nori said.  “Soulmates don’t mean perfect.”

 

“I know it,” Bilbo said.  He did.  His parents had fought as much as any couple.

 

“Do you?” Nori persisted.  “’Cause if you hobbits don’t marry for soulmates, I’m not sure you do.  I’ve seen ‘em:  one pair I know fights like mad, and I’ve seen rope burns at his wrists and bruises round his neck.  It don’t seem to me that’s proper love.”

 

Bilbo had certainly not heard of anything like _that_ in the Shire, or seen that from his parents.

 

“Now I don’t know about that,” Bofur said.  “For some that’s what they want, and so their match _is_ a good one.”

 

“What they want is hands around their neck?” Nori exclaimed.  “I’d gut anyone who laid a hand on Ori like that, and I wouldn’t care if it was his soulmate or not.”

 

Bofur held up his hands.

           

“I’m just saying not every pair is the same or wants the same,” he said.  “And I’ve known some, not soulmates, who didn’t mind a little pain to go with their pleasure.”

 

Nori looked suspiciously at Bofur.

           

“Some?” he said.  “You’ll stay away from Ori if you know what’s good for you.”

 

Bofur sighed.

           

“I have no designs on Ori,” he said.

 

“And stay away from Dori too,” Nori told him.

 

“Or Dori!” Bofur exclaimed.  “And I didn’t mean me!”

 

Nori glared at him.

 

“Anyway, we’re here for Bilbo,” Bofur added.  He turned to face Bilbo once more.  “You don’t let him push you,” he said.  “I’ve seen how he can be; he’ll roll right over you if you don’t push back.”

 

Bilbo nodded.  His mother had been the same if she grew excited, and while normally Bungo had given his mother her way, sometimes he had to refuse her in his stolid way.  That had usually led to fights, though those had also usually led to their disappearing into the bedroom after.

 

“And if you need us, we’re here,” Bofur stated, and Nori nodded.

 

“King or not, he’ll feel my knife if he touches you when you don’t want it,” he said.

 

Bilbo’s eyes grew wide.

           

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” he protested.  “Thorin has always been a gentledwarf.”

 

“I’ll keep my eye on him just the same,” Nori said.  “If he takes any liberties, you just give the word.”

 

Bilbo simply shook his head, but he said that he would to get them to go, and told them he just wanted a bit of time to think.  He escaped to Beorn’s garden and weeded a bit there to take his mind off it, but it wasn’t much of an escape; for Balin and Fili and Ori found him there.

 

“We’ve come as Thorin’s representatives,” Balin said, “his heir and advisor, to ask what your conditions are in the match, and to present his requests.”  Fili stood at attention, and Ori had his paper and quill at the ready.

 

“My...conditions?” Bilbo asked dazedly.

 

“What are your demands, that we may begin the negotiations,” Balin prompted.

 

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said.  “I don’t think I have any.”

 

“Very well,” Balin replied.  He nodded to Ori, who handed a long list to Bilbo.

 

“To serve as Royal Consort and fulfill the duties therein,” Bilbo read aloud.  “To wear my colors in our wedding and at court.  To wear my beads, made by my hand, in your braids.”  He looked up.  “My hair’s not really long enough to braid,” he said.

 

“No,” Balin agreed.  “You’ll have to grow it out.”  Bilbo blinked, but went on down the list.

 

“To live in Erebor at my side, though if you wish, you may visit your Shire once a year for no more than one month’s absence.  To meet the carnal needs...”  Bilbo blushed, and skipped the rest of that one.

 

“To stand behind the might of Erebor, for your safety and protection,” he read.  “We’re going to fight a dragon,” he pointed out.  “I’m supposed to burgle from it.”

 

“Thorin is having second thoughts about the wisdom of that,” Balin replied.

 

“But then why have I come?” Bilbo asked.  Balin didn’t answer.  After a moment, Bilbo went back to the list.

 

“To _stay away from elves_?” he read.  “This is ridiculous!”

 

Balin cleared his throat.

 

“There may be some room for negotiation, of course,” he said.  “Who will be your representatives, as your kinfolk are in the Shire?”

 

Bilbo was stymied.

 

“I don’t know,” he stuttered.  “I didn’t know I would need any.”  He paused.  “I’m still not sure I want to do this!”

 

Fili spoke for the first time.

 

“But you do accept Uncle’s right to court you?” he asked.

 

Reluctantly, Bilbo nodded.

 

“I suppose I do,” he said.  “Only I didn’t expect this.”  He held up the list.

 

“You must choose a representative, and preferably two,” Balin told him.  He stroked his beard thoughtfully.  “Gloin would be a good choice.  Close enough in the line of Durin to understand the expectations, independent enough to represent your interests honestly.”

 

“Maybe Dwalin as his second?”  Fili suggested.  Bilbo sputtered.

 

“Dwalin’s loyalty to Thorin is unquestionable!  How well do you think he will represent me?” he protested.  Clearly he must really think about this.  He pursed his lips.

 

“Bofur,” he said.  “And I will ask Gloin.”

 

Balin shook his head.  “Gloin, yes; but not Bofur.  Your representative cannot be a miner and toymaker.  His station is not adequate.”

 

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

 

“I am a gentlehobbit from the Shire,” he said.  “Surely that is not the station Thorin expects from a—“ he checked his list—“ ‘Royal Consort.’  And Bofur is my friend and on my side.”

 

“You are Thorin’s soulmate, his One,” Balin replied.  “That transcends both rank and position.  What you need to know as Consort can be learned.  But Bofur’s position matters, and he is still a miner.”

 

Bilbo huffed.

 

“Nori, then,” he said.

 

Balin thought for a moment.

 

“Dori,” he countered. 

 

Bilbo frowned mulishly.

 

“I don’t really know Dori, and I have no idea what he thinks about all this.  Nori, I trust to watch out for me,” he stated.  “And Gloin, you said, has the necessary position.”  He shook the list at Balin.  “I’m taking this with me, and I will have a counter-proposal... well, I don’t know when I will.  But it will be soon as I am able.”

 

Balin and Fili bowed.

 

“At your service,” they said in tandem, and went away.  Bilbo wondered if dwarrows practiced bowing and speaking together.  He looked at Ori, who remained.

 

“I am to be your scribe as needed,” Ori told him.  He paused shyly.  “It is truly a great honor for Nori, that you should ask him.  I am sure he will be pleased to help.”  And then he grinned.  “And he won’t be half bad at it, either.”

 

Bilbo looked down at the contract in his muddy hands and the pile of weeds at his feet.  He sighed.

 

“We’d best go in, then, and ask them,” he said.  “I think I am going to need some help.”

***

 

When Bilbo asked Gloin, he nodded sagely, as if he had been expecting to be asked; and Bilbo felt comforted.  It seemed Gloin did understand the expectations and requirements.  When he asked Nori, he blushed, but said that he would.  And both turned out to be excellent advisors.  They met until luncheon, and by then Bilbo felt as prepared as he would ever be.

 

After lunch, Gloin nodded to Balin, which must have been a signal of some kind, for all the rest of the dwarrows filed away, leaving only Thorin, with Fili and Kili at his side, and Bilbo, with Nori and Gloin, and Ori to write it all down.

 

Gloin did not wait for any preliminaries.

 

“’To serve as Royal Consort and fulfill the duties therein,’” he quoted, “baring grievous illness or other previously negotiated absence.”

 

Balin nodded, and Gloin continued.

 

“The following shall be considered as the duties of the Royal Consort:  to serve as an advisor on the Royal Council, attending Council meetings and providing honest advice as he sees fit.”

 

Again, Balin nodded.  Ori was writing furiously.

 

“To sit by His Majesty’s side at dinners of state, and assist in the entertaining of visiting dignitaries,” Gloin said.

 

Balin began to nod, but Thorin stopped him.

 

“Excepting elves,” he said.

 

Bilbo looked to the heavens.

 

“ _All_ visiting dignitaries,” he stated firmly.

 

Thorin scowled, and Balin intervened.

 

“Visiting dignitaries, at the discretion of the king,” he suggested.

 

Nori snorted.

 

“That just means Thorin decides,” he said.  “Visiting dignitaries, as negotiated by the king and consort together.”

 

“That means we have to fight about it every time!” Bilbo protested.  “What is wrong with elves?”

 

“His Majesty has not had good history with elves,” Balin said delicately.

 

Bilbo crossed his arms.

 

“Then it seems I’m best suited to deal with them,” he said.  “All visiting dignitaries.”

 

Balin looked to Thorin, who looked away.

 

“In the entertaining of all visiting dignitaries, save those for whom the Consort has previously agreed to avoid, with the Consort’s word considered as final in this matter.”

 

Silence fell, as all gathered around the table considered this.  Finally Thorin nodded.  Gloin looked to Bilbo, who nodded as well.

 

“Very well,” Gloin said.

 

“To serve as ambassador and representative of the king as needed, with the ability to negotiate on the king’s behalf, signing treaties, contracts, and other negotiated settlements,” Gloin said.

 

“Subject to the final approval of the king,” Balin added, and Gloin nodded.

 

Bilbo began to wonder how long this would take, and hope they might be able to break for tea.  The next few conditions, however, met with no dissent, until...

 

“To meet the carnal needs of the king to the best of the Consort’s ability, and to seek only the king for his own bodily comfort,” Balin read.  Bilbo could not look at Thorin for this, but he could feel Thorin’s eyes on him.  He knew he blushed.

 

“To meet the carnal needs of the king as previously negotiated and agreed upon by both parties, with the right to decline at any given time, and prohibiting any damage to the Consort’s body; and to seek only the king for his own bodily comfort,” Gloin countered.

 

Thorin stirred, and Bilbo felt his face grow hotter.

 

“I would not harm him!” Thorin protested.

 

“Then there isn’t any difficulty in agreeing to this wording, is there?” Nori asked, his voice level but somehow threatening.

 

Balin sighed.  “With the right to decline at any given time, given the stipulation that marital relations shall be engaged in at least once per week,” he said.

 

“Once a day,” Thorin said.  Fili stifled a laugh, and Ori blushed.

 

Gloin turned to Bilbo.

 

“We didn’t discuss this,” he said.  “I apologize; it is a clear oversight on my part.  What are your thoughts?”

 

Nori leaned in.

 

“You keep that wording exactly the way it is,” he said.

 

Bilbo pursed his lips.

 

“It doesn’t really seem right, to deny him at least that, if we’re married,” he said, “but once a day...”

 

“Twice a week,” Gloin suggested.  Bilbo nodded, and Gloin turned back to Balin.

 

“Twice a week,” he said.

 

“Three times,” Balin countered.

 

“Four,” Thorin growled.  Bilbo would swear that he could feel Thorin’s eyes raking his body.

 

Gloin looked at Bilbo.  Bilbo bit his lip, and met Thorin’s eyes for the first time since the discussion of this point had begun.  Thorin’s blue eyes blazed in his hungry face.  Bilbo’s mouth felt dry.

 

“Four,” he agreed.  He blushed, but added, “and the Consort shall request such relations as he desires as well.”

 

The corner of Thorin’s lip turned up, and if it were possible, his eyes grew hotter.

 

“The king shall be available to the Consort’s request at any time,” he purred.

 

Balin cleared his throat.

 

“Barring any responsibilities of the throne,” Thorin added reluctantly.

 

Gloin shuffled his papers.

 

“If we may move on, then?” he said.  “The Consort shall retain ownership of any and all properties he owned prior to the marriage, including his contracted share...”

***

 

By the time negotiations were over, Bilbo felt wrung out; but Gloin and Nori both seemed pleased with the results.  Bilbo wasn’t sure what he thought; he was too tired and stressed.  All of this was hypothetical anyway; Thorin’s courtship might end without agreement between them, but squabbling over terms made it seem all too real.  As they stood to depart, Thorin came to stand in front of Bilbo.  He opened his hand to show a beautifully carved cedar bead and a silver clasp.

 

“I would ask that you wear this, and know I think of you, and I wait for the day it may be gems that I weave into your hair,” he said.

 

Bilbo felt so—

 

“Cedar,” he said.

 

“I live for thee,” Thorin replied, and caressed Bilbo’s cheek.  “May I?”

 

Bilbo chewed his lip, but he nodded.  Gently Thorin gathered Bilbo’s hair where it grew longest and began to braid in the bead, then attached the clasp to hold the braid shut.  Bilbo’s hand went up to feel the braid.

 

“Did you make it?” he asked.

 

“I did,” Thorin said, “though I am afraid the clasp is from one of my own braids.  There is no furnace here I may use to work metal.”

 

Bilbo took in a deep breath.

 

“Thank you,” he said.  “It’s lovely.”

 

Thorin smiled at him, his beautiful smile.

 

“It is less than you deserve, and not nearly as beautiful as its setting,” he told Bilbo.  “But I am content to see you wear the work of my hands.”

 

Before Bilbo lost his courage, he lifted up on tiptoe to kiss Thorin’s cheek.  He smiled a bit himself to see Thorin’s astonishment before he recalled himself and retreated.  Still he felt his hand go to touch the bead often during the rest of the day, and he was smiling as he did.

 

Even after they left Beorn’s house to continue their journey, Thorin continued to court him.  If they stopped for luncheon, Thorin found his side; and often he had a posy for Bilbo.  In the evenings as they stopped to camp, he offered Bilbo lessons in using his little sword; and when it grew dark, he sang by the campfire.  The love songs of dwarrows were not like those of hobbits, but Bilbo thought them beautiful.  The part of him that feared bonding knew it had lost, but Thorin did not yet speak of bonding.  Bilbo thought he waited for something, perhaps Erebor and a successful conclusion to their quest.

 

In the Mirkwood, Bilbo grew to hate the dark under the trees.  Though they did not see the usual forest creatures, the forest seemed to watch them, and wait, for what Bilbo did not know.  The trek grew long, and with no end in sight, Bilbo began to think seriously about approaching Thorin himself.  If they starved to death here, then he would rather be together than still have this separation between them.  But then they encountered the spiders, and Thorin was gone.

 

Then Bilbo regretted bitterly that he had said nothing.  He mourned Thorin, he thought, just as much as his mother had mourned his father, though they had not formalized their bond.  He clung to the hope that Thorin was not dead, and for a moment considered staying in the forest to search for him when woodelves captured the rest of the dwarrows.  Only when he realized that Thorin had likely been captured as well did he hurry after the elves with his ring on his finger.  He was glad of it, though; he hated the gloomy Mirkwood, and was hopeful for the first time that Thorin might be returned to him.

 

And when he finally found Thorin in the dungeons of the Elfking, he told him so.  He could see Thorin through the bars of his cell door, though the light was dim.  He sat with his head back against the stone wall, and his face was twisted with despair.  Bilbo slipped off his ring and stepped forward, reaching through the bars towards Thorin.

 

“Thorin,” he said quietly.  Thorin’s head shot up and he turned to the door.  “Thorin, yes,” Bilbo said.

 

Thorin scrambled to the door as fast as Bilbo had ever seen him move.  His grip was tight as he clenched Bilbo’s hand, and he shook.

 

“Ah, my Bilbo,” he said, “I feared so for you, and for the others.”

 

“All are fine,” Bilbo told him, “but also confined.  I am the only one who escaped capture.”

 

Thorin’s hands clung to Bilbo’s, and still he shook, though he laughed shakily.

 

“It is the first good news since we entered the Mirkwood, that my company is also in the hands of the woodelves; but my One is still free,” he said.  “How did you escape them?”

 

So Bilbo reluctantly told Thorin of his ring, but Thorin didn’t discount what he had done; rather he seemed impressed at Bilbo’s possession of such an item of power.

 

“Will you go to the others,” he asked, “and bid them speak nothing to the woodelves, save I should give leave?  Only be cautious, for even with your ring, you risk capture.”

 

“I will,” Bilbo said, and moved to go; but Thorin did not release his hand.  Instead he drew Bilbo closer, and reached through the bars to curl his hand around the nape of Bilbo’s neck.  Bilbo closed his eyes and leaned back into the touch.

 

“Come closer, my One,” Thorin murmured, and Bilbo moved forward until his face touched the bars between them.  Thorin tilted his head, and carefully kissed Bilbo’s mouth.  It was not easy, with the door between them; but he made Bilbo’s head spin nevertheless, and Bilbo was panting and gasping and clutching at Thorin when he let him go.

 

“Come back to me when you have seen the others,” Thorin said quietly, and his voice was hoarse with want.  “And be careful, _âzyung_.”

 

“I will,” Bilbo said, and he knew his desire was in his voice as well.  “I promise it.”

 

And though he felt bad for the others, he came to them seldom; but spent all the time he was not searching for a way out with Thorin.  He was greedy for this now that he had given in.  When he found what he thought might be a way out, by the river, he felt shame, but his thoughts were not chaste.  He thought less of freeing the others, and more of finally feeling Thorin’s body against his with nothing between them.  He had never known such lust.  He wondered at the hobbits who resisted the call of their soulmates; he did not know how they did it.  He did not know how he had done it as long as he had.

 

Indeed, it was only the witness of the company that kept him from more than a kiss when he set Thorin free, and it was only fear of being caught that kept him from it as he shut Thorin in his barrel, but there was nothing to stop him when he pulled the dwarf-laden barrels from the river.  The first barrel he wrenched open was Thorin’s, and he did not move to free another dwarf; but clung tightly to Thorin instead, until Thorin himself protested.

 

“You don’t know how awful it was, trapped so,” he said.  “Let us free the others.”  Though he collapsed to his knees after he climbed out of his barrel.  “Give me a moment only.”

 

Bilbo kissed him on the forehead, and went to free the other dwarrows.  When Thorin could, he joined him.  All around them dwarrows lay groaning and holding their stomachs or their heads, and Bilbo only held Thorin’s hand and smiled at him.  When Kili recovered enough to look at them and puff up with pride, Bilbo laughed, and leaned over to kiss Thorin again.  Silently he wished the other dwarrows away and wondered when he might get Thorin alone with no witnesses.

 

The answer to that question, happily, was Laketown, only a day later; though by then Bilbo was thoroughly miserable with a cold from riding a barrel down the river.  Thorin must spend much time feeding the ego of the Master at first; but he nursed Bilbo when he could, and by the time Bilbo felt better, Thorin declared himself done with banquets in his honor.  His eyes were hot on Bilbo at dinner, but Nori stopped them as they went upstairs to the small bedroom Bilbo had been using.  He was glaring at Thorin.

 

“You will treat him with the respect and dignity that are due the Royal Consort, though he is not that yet; and you will take him at his word should he deny you anything,” he said.

 

Rather than being offended, Thorin seemed pleased with Nori’s protectiveness.

 

“I will,” he said.  “By Durin I swear it.  He is my One.”

 

Bilbo waited until the bedroom door was shut behind them, then leaned up to whisper in Thorin’s ear.

 

“I intend to deny you nothing,” he whispered.  Thorin’s hands tightened on his arms.  “But you must be gentle with me, for I have never done this before.”

 

Thorin pulled him into an embrace and laughed into his hair.

 

“Do you think that I have?” he asked.  “I was born with your name on my wrist.”  He pulled back to smile at Bilbo, his brilliant smile.  “Perhaps it is you who should be gentle with me.”

 

Bilbo reached to kiss him.

 

“Gentle with each other, then,” he said, then smiled wickedly.  “At least at first.”

 

Thorin laughed again, then kissed Bilbo in a most unchaste manner, and then his hands went to the fastenings of his belt.  Bilbo’s mouth grew dry to watch, and Thorin’s smile grew to see his face as he stripped.  But when his chest was bare, he stopped.

 

“Come,” Thorin said, his hands smoothing over Bilbo’s shoulders.  “I would feel your skin against mine.  Will you not undress?”

 

Bilbo’s hands were frantic on his buttons then, and Thorin laughed as he sat to remove his boots.  Bilbo thought he should die happy to have heard Thorin laugh as much as he did now.  When Thorin was unclothed, Bilbo turned them so Thorin’s back was to the bed, then pushed him back so he fell upon it.  He knew he could not have done it had Thorin not let him, but Thorin _did_ let him, and Bilbo felt another surge of lust.  He climbed on top of Thorin and leaned down to kiss him.  For a time they did nothing but kiss, then Bilbo pulled away.

 

“It feels strange to be the one to lean down,” he confessed.

 

“Would you rather lie down, and I shall cover you?” Thorin asked.

 

Bilbo shook his head.

 

“No,” he whispered, and bit his lip.  “I like it.”

 

Thorin’s eyes darkened at that, and Bilbo liked _that_ too.  He was discovering that he liked a lot about this.  Daringly he lowered his eyes to where Thorin’s cock stood proud against his belly.  It bobbed as Bilbo bit his lip again.  Bilbo drew a slow finger along the side of it, and pulled down the foreskin to see where drops of precome gathered inside the folds.  Thorin gasped and threw his head back when Bilbo took his finger curiously to his mouth so he might taste.  Bilbo smiled to see it, and wrapped his hand with growing confidence around Thorin’s cock, and proceeded to see how much Thorin could thrash beneath him.

 

But it all fell apart once they reached the mountain.

 

Thorin had not wanted Bilbo to face the dragon, but Bilbo insisted.  It was what he had come to do, and with his ring he should be safe.  And he was, mostly, though Thorin frowned most furiously to see Bilbo come up the tunnel singed from Smaug’s last blast at him, and held him tightly.  It was when Smaug left that Bilbo began to see a side to the dwarrows that he had not seen before, and he could not like it.

 

They seemed to care for nothing once they saw the gleaming treasure, and though Bilbo could admit it was pretty, he thought they had much to do before exploring the hoard.  Smaug could return at any time, and he would find them unprepared.  They had no food, and must do what they could to try to find something to eat.  Finally he was able to convince Thorin to listen to him, though it took a rather embarrassing display of dominance on his part.  He would rather not engage in such activities where others could see.  He need not have worried, though; the dwarrows’ attention had remained on the gold until Thorin called them away.

 

When the men and elves came to the mountain and Thorin seemed as eager for war as he was for that cursed Arkenstone, Bilbo had had enough.  He dragged Thorin to their bed after dinner and exhausted him as many ways as he could think of until Thorin collapsed into a deep sleep.  Then, with tears on his cheeks and the Arkenstone in his pocket, he rose from their bed and went to tell Bombur he would take his watch.

 

After, he refused to stay in the camp of the woodelves.  He would return to Thorin and face what he had done.

 

When Bard called Thorin to the gate and the company gathered there, Bilbo thought he had never seen Thorin so furious as he was to see the Arkenstone in Bard’s grasp.  When Thorin lifted Bilbo into the air to shake him, he thought it was all over; and he cried bitterly as he began to clamber over the gate and down to Gandalf.  But the company seemed to shake off their daze then, to see him leave them; Fili and Kili began to cry, and Nori cried out.

 

“Wait!” he called, and Bilbo paused where he was on the wall.

 

Nori went over to Gloin, and they whispered together for a time before Gloin retreated, Bilbo knew not where.  Thorin glowered darkly at this, but did not force Bilbo to leave.

 

Finally Gloin returned, and when he did, Bilbo was surprised to see he had Bilbo and Thorin’s contract with him.  He and Nori looked at it, and discussed something quietly; then Gloin turned to Balin.

 

“His Majesty may be considered in breach of contract,” he said.  “It is stipulated here that he shall not lay hands on the Royal Consort in anger.”

 

Bilbo was surprised to see the company draw in a great breath at this, though Thorin’s face did not change.  Gloin seemed encouraged though.

 

“Moreover,” he continued, “Bilbo’s properties and possessions remain in his name and his control even after marriage; and his share in the treasure is specifically included in this.”

 

Balin pursed his lips.

 

“They are not married yet,” he said.  But Bilbo was surprised again, for then Ori spoke.

 

“There is precedent, however; for considering the contract to be already in force,” he argued.  “For most of the conditions have been met, save only the declaration to the king’s court.  And we could be considered the court, until the rest of the nobles come back to the mountain.”  He blushed.  “I think we all know that the—ah—consummation has taken place.”

 

“He has taken the Arkenstone of my fathers and given it to my enemies!” Thorin burst out.

 

“But you did stipulate that the Arkenstone was a share, and Bilbo found it,” Balin admitted.  “It can be argued that it was his to do with as he wished.”

 

“I claimed it to myself!”  Thorin roared.  “And _he has given it to my enemies_!” 

 

Bilbo could not stand it.

 

“They are not your enemies,” he cried.  “And I did it to prevent a war!  For you did not listen to me, but have only been mad for gold and this rock!”

 

Nori jerked, and turned to whisper to Gloin once more.  Bilbo heard Gloin say, “You are right,” before he flipped in the contract and then read aloud once more.

 

“’The following shall be considered as the duties of the Royal Consort:  to serve as an advisor on the Royal Council, attending Council meetings and providing honest advice as he sees fit;’ and further,” he stated, as he flipped back a few pages, “’the consort shall take over the duties of the king at such time as he is indisposed due to injury or illness.’”

 

Balin shook his head, but to Bilbo, it seemed he was reluctant.

 

“It doesn’t say that the king must take his advice; only that the consort will give it,” he replied.  “And the king is not prevented from his duties by injury or illness at this time.”

 

Bilbo felt a surge of hope.

 

“He _is_ ,” he cried.  “You all have been, sickened by the gold until you are blind to all else!”  He turned to Kili.  “You told me once that a soulmate was worth more than any gold or any gem to a dwarf!  How then is it that I am cast aside for that cursed rock?”

 

Kili nodded, tears still streaming down his face.

 

“Worth more than all else,” he said.

 

Nori nodded as well, and Gloin started, and looked in the contract, and took in a deep breath.

 

“Ah—ah—“ he said.  “’To serve as ambassador and representative of the king as needed, with the ability to negotiate on the king’s behalf, signing treaties, contracts, and other negotiated settlements.’”

 

“Subject to the king’s approval,” Balin said, but Bilbo could tell now; he wanted Bilbo to win this.  Bilbo climbed back inside the gate and turned to Thorin.

 

“Approve it, then,” he demanded, crossing his arms across his chest.  “I negotiated, and I did it with my share, and you have been ill from the gold.”

 

“Whatever I may have been, I am well now,” Thorin growled.  Bilbo lifted his chin.

 

“Then approve it,” he challenged.  “And trade your gold for the return of the Arkenstone, that the men may rebuild their town.”

 

Thorin frowned and crossed his own arms.

 

“You were to stay away from elves,” he declared, but his voice was no longer so angry.

 

“That was not in the final contract,” Bilbo told him.  Thorin threw up his arms in frustration.

 

“Do it, then,” he cried.  “Bring up the gold that we may bribe the men and elves according to the negotiated agreement of my _consort_.”  He turned his back to Bilbo and the gate.  Fili started to hear him, but signaled Bofur and Bifur to go with him, and they left for the treasure hall.  For the rest of the day the company moved gold to the gate and let it down by pulley; but Thorin only watched, and Bilbo stayed where he was as well, for when he had moved, Thorin had growled at him to stay.

 

It was only a small fraction of Bilbo’s share that went down before Bard signaled that it was enough and sent up the Arkenstone.  Indeed, Bilbo was not sure how the men and the elves would carry what had already been sent, but it was not his worry.  Thorin took the Arkenstone from the lift, and carefully inspected it; then he glared at Bilbo as he handed it to Fili.

 

“See that it is mounted above the throne once again,” he said, then stepped towards Bilbo.  It took all Bilbo’s courage not to run away from him.  But then Balin cleared his throat.  Thorin’s expression as he turned to Balin was stormy.

 

“And now what is it that you would have me do?” he grated out.  Balin only gestured to Gloin and Nori.

 

“Ah!” Gloin cried.  “His Majesty must make amends for his breach in the contract!”

 

“I intend to,” Thorin growled, and he closed the distance between himself and Bilbo, and lifted Bilbo up and threw him over his shoulder, and carried him off to bed.  They did not leave it until the cry of “Orcs!” went up and they must gird themselves for war.

 

Thorin stopped Bilbo at the gate.

 

“You will remain here,” he said.  “You have agreed to it:  ‘to stand behind the might of Erebor for your safety and protection.’”

 

Bilbo scowled.  “Curse that contract,” he said.  He stood up on tiptoe to kiss Thorin, who was resplendent in his battle armor.  He had never looked so glorious, save...well.  Save when they had been alone.

 

Thorin chucked him under his chin.

 

“Do not curse it,” he said.  “For when I was gold-mad and would have sent you away, it gave me the time and the reason to come out of it.  And it protected you when I was the danger you faced.”  They kissed again, and then he left Bilbo behind as the company pushed forth the gate and charged into battle with Thorin at their head.

 

Bilbo watched for only a minute before he slipped on his ring and followed.  He guiltily thought that now he was the one breaking their contract, but he could not watch as Thorin went into danger without him.

 

The battle was unlike anything Bilbo had ever experienced, and within minutes he wished to be within the safety of Erebor’s walls.  Thorin and the rest of the company were ahead of him, though, and he could not retreat until he knew Thorin to be safe.  Mostly he dodged his way around the battlefield; but sometimes he could not avoid an orc, and Sting grew black with blood.  Bilbo swallowed down his fear and dodged and dived and ran towards Thorin.  He felt himself grow cold to see Thorin face Azog, and both Fili and Kili fall to the ground as they sought to protect Thorin.  He did not know what to do.

 

Still he went to Thorin, and he reached him just as Azog did.  Azog raised his mace, and Bilbo cried out with fear; but he dashed under the White Warg’s belly and stabbed up into his gut.  The warg convulsed and Azog fell, but Bilbo’s legs were trapped beneath a paw.  One of his legs burned in pain, and he thought it must be broken.  He struggled frantically to escape. 

 

He could not see Thorin from where he was, only Azog’s back.  He looked around for anything to try to pry himself out from under the warg, but he saw nothing, only the loose rocks of the mountainside.  He paused.  He gathered in as many rocks as he could reach and began to throw them at Azog.  It was very strange, to see the rocks go invisible as he picked them up, then become visible again as he threw them.  Not all his rocks reached Azog, but the ones that did caused him to flinch; and though he still swung his mace, after one lucky rock hit Azog’s temple as his face was turned in profile to Bilbo he seemed dazed, and soon thereafter Bilbo saw him stiffen and crumple to the ground.  Bilbo could still not see Thorin beyond the warg’s body, but he prayed for his safety.  Eventually he gave up on escaping from the warg; it was too heavy for him; and he sheltered from the battle in the lee of its body until the eagles came and the fighting had ended.

 

When he saw Beorn lift Thorin and Fili and Kili and carry their limp bodies from the field, Bilbo wrenched off his ring and cried out.  Beorn paused and looked, but did not see him, and he left the battlefield.  Bilbo began to struggle again, and finally a man saw him and helped to free him from the warg, and then to limp to the tents hastily set up for the healers at the base of the mountain.  He was intercepted by the healers before he could find Thorin and his sister-sons; but he was also made to wait as the healers helped those in more danger first.  Finally Dwalin ducked into the tent where he sat, and started to see Bilbo.

 

“You,” he accused, “are supposed to be in the mountain.”

 

Bilbo grimaced at him.

 

“How does Thorin fare?” he pleaded.  “And Fili and Kili?  I have heard nothing, and the healers will not let me leave.”

 

Dwalin shook his head.

 

“I don’t know,” he said.  “They won’t let any of us in there, not even Oin.”  Then he nodded abruptly.  “But Oin might be able to see to you.”  And he left the tent.

 

When he returned half an hour later, Oin and Nori were with him.  Nori cried to see him, but hugged him tight and held his hand while Oin set his leg.  Dwalin had also found some crutches from somewhere, so though he trembled with the pain of it, Bilbo could pick his way slowly over to the tent where Thorin lay, with Fili and Kili nearby.  He arrived in time to see Balin emerge from one of the tents, shaky but smiling.

 

“Fili,” Dwalin told him.  “Fili must be safe enough for now, that Balin was allowed to see him, and that he smiles after.”  Dwalin helped him to find a place to sit close by, with his leg lifted onto a barrel to keep it elevated and safe from being jostled.  And then they waited.

 

Bilbo dozed off at some point, but woke to Balin’s gentle shaking.

 

“He calls for you,” Balin said.  “He is awake and wishes to see you.”

 

Bilbo rose as quickly as he could and followed Balin to one of the tents.  Balin held back the flap at the entrance, and Bilbo hobbled inside.  Thorin lay deathly still and pale, and his torso was wrapped in bandages; but he breathed still, and as he heard Bilbo he opened his eyes.

 

“ _Âzyung_ ,” he said.  “You are supposed to be under the mountain.”

 

“That’s just what Dwalin said,” Bilbo replied, and he dared to take a few careful steps closer.  “What have you done to yourself?”

 

Thorin waved a hand.

 

“I live,” he said.  “The rest does not matter.  I am still in fear for Kili.”  He closed his eyes briefly, then struggled to open them again.  Bilbo thought he must have been given something for his pain.

 

“I am glad I did not know you were on the battlefield until I also knew you were safe,” Thorin said.  “You are in breach of your contract, _âzyung_.”

 

Bilbo slowly lowered himself until he could kiss Thorin’s brow.

 

“I will have to make amends,” he told Thorin.  “When you are feeling better.”

 

Thorin huffed a little in laughter, but soon subsided.  Bilbo could see that it hurt him.

 

“Stay by my side, my One,” he requested.  “It is better to have you close.”

 

“I will not leave you,” Bilbo promised.  Thorin closed his eyes and slept, and Bilbo kept watch by his bedside.  The healer scowled to see him there when she returned, but helped find him a cot that he might rest by Thorin’s side.  In the morning, Balin came with news that Kili would also survive, and a great weight lifted from Thorin.  Bilbo held Thorin’s hand as they cried with joy and relief.

 

***

 

Months later, on the eve of their wedding, Bilbo told Thorin about his parents.

 

“You said it was not done in the Shire,” Thorin said.

 

“In all the Shire, they were the only soulmates married to each other,” Bilbo replied.  “When Father died...”  He sighed.  “It is why I fought you in the first place.  I didn’t want to suffer as my mother did after his death.  I have greatly feared it.”

 

“And now you do not?” Thorin gently prompted.

 

Bilbo shook his head.

 

“No, I fear it still,” he said.  “But my love for you is greater than my fear.  I would not have it be different.”  He paused.  “I only pray we may not be separated by death for long.”

 

Thorin squeezed his hands.

 

“My One,” he said, “my One.”  And he pulled Bilbo to him, and Bilbo was content to have it be so.  He could hardly remember a time when he would not have wanted to be in Thorin’s arms.

 

 


	2. Omake:  Contract of Marriage between Thorin II of Erebor, King under the Mountain, and Master Bilbo Baggins, Royal Consort to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Thorin and Bilbo's contract may include more than these provisions, these were the ten that I retrieved from edits of the document (and one speculatory clause within the comments). They are completely unnecessary and frivolous; but provided here for your entertainment to thank all those who said that they enjoyed the contract in the fic. Please feel free to suggest any and all addendums or further provisions!
> 
>  
> 
> I especially blame eaivalefay and diemarysues.

  ** _Contract of Marriage between Thorin II of Erebor, King under the Mountain, and Master Bilbo Baggins, Royal Consort to be_**

 

The signatories to this document, Thorin II and Bilbo Baggins, agree to the following provisions for the duties and requirements of Bilbo Baggins in the position of Royal Consort:

 

Provision I.  To serve as Royal Consort and fulfill the duties therein, baring grievous illness or other previously negotiated absence.  The following shall be considered as the duties of the Royal Consort: 

i.  To serve as an Advisor on the Royal Council, attending Council meetings and providing honest advice as he sees fit.

ii.  To sit by His Majesty’s side at dinners of state, and assist in the entertaining of visiting dignitaries, save those for whom the Consort has previously agreed to avoid, with the Consort’s word considered as final in this matter. 

~~Excepting elves~~

_~~All~~ _ ~~visiting dignitaries~~

~~Visiting dignitaries, at the discretion of the king~~

~~Visiting dignitaries, as negotiated by the king and consort together.~~

iii.  To take over the duties of the King at such time as the King is indisposed due to injury or illness.

 

Provision II.  To serve as Ambassador and Representative of the king as needed, with the ability to negotiate on the King’s behalf, signing Treaties, Contracts, and other Negotiated Settlements, subject to the Approval of the King.

 

Provision III.  To wear the King’s colors at the Royal Wedding and at Court. 

 

Provision IV.  To wear the King’s beads, made by the King’s hand, in the Consort’s braids.

 

Provision V.  To live in Erebor at the King’s side, though if the Consort wishes, he may visit the Shire once a year for no more than one month’s absence. 

 

Provision VI.  To stand behind the Might of Erebor, for the Consort’s Safety and Protection.

 

Provision VII.  To meet the Carnal Needs of the King to the best of the Consort’s Ability.

i.  Sexual Congress (i.e. Marital Relations for the Purposes of Bodily Comfort) shall occur as previously negotiated and agreed upon by both parties, with the right to decline at any given time with the stipulation that Marital Relations shall be engaged in at least four times per week, and prohibiting any damage to the Consort’s Body; and the Consort agrees to seek only the King for his own Bodily Comfort, as the King shall seek Comfort only from the Consort.  The Consort shall freely request such Relations as he desires.  The King shall be available to the Consort’s Request at any time, barring any Responsibilities of the Throne. 

ii.  Sexual Congress shall be defined as the Activities of the King and Consort (hereafter referred to as 'the Couple') that lead to Orgasm by one or both parties. Repeated Denial of Orgasm or Completion by one party, however, may be considered a Breach of Contract. The Methods used by the Couple during Sexual Congress will be negotiated by the Couple prior to engaging in said Activity, and may include but are not limited to the use of Implements whether designed for such Purposes or not, given the stipulation that all Care is taken to prevent Harm to either or both Parties.

~~given the stipulation that marital relations shall be engaged in at least once per week~~

            ~~Once a day~~

            ~~Twice a week~~

            ~~Three times~~

 

Provision VIII.  The Consort shall retain ownership of any and all Properties he owned prior to the Marriage, including his Contracted Share of one fourteenth of the Treasure of Erebor as previously agreed (see addendum, _Contract of Thorin II’s Company for the Recovery of Erebor, section V.)_ , and in addition those Gifts of the King both on the occasion of the Marriage and within the Marriage until the end of their days.

 

Provision IX.  The King shall not lay hands on the Royal Consort in anger, nor shall the Royal Consort lay hands upon the King in anger.

 

Provision X.  ~~The Royal Consort agrees to stay away from elves _._ ~~

 

This Document, once signed, will be considered a valid Contract between the parties of King and Consort, to take effect upon the Announcement to and Recognition of the King’s Court and the Consummation of the Marriage.

 

Signed on this day, September Twentieth, in the Year 2941 of the Third Age.

 

_Thorin II of Erebor                                                Bilbo Baggins_


End file.
